


The Kids Aren't Alright

by firefright



Series: Revolution in Parts [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Nobody is Happy in Injustice, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), bonding sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's accepted into the Regime, but they don't trust him yet. To decide whether or not he's worthy of that trust Superman assigns a guard to evaluate his behaviour, and Jason probably shouldn't be surprised to find out that guard is Damian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kids Aren't Alright

**Author's Note:**

> After reading the last issue of the Injustice comic I had to get this part finished. Finally, this universe gave us some good character development on Damian (his conversation with Catwoman broke my heart)! Otherwise I think we can safely say I'm going to be deviating quite a bit from what's happening in the comics Year 5 up until the point the events of the game happen, as it's been largely disappointing so far.

Jason didn't know that signing up for the Regime would mean gaining himself a babysitter. Nor that the babysitter would be Damian.

In hindsight he should have known better. It makes sense, because while he can say as many pretty words as he likes to Kal-El's face with a steady heartbeat, can proclaim his anger at Bruce and his agreement in how to deal with the worst of the worst, in the end he's still a Bat brat. He's not like Damian who flocked to the Regime in the beginning, so if he wants trust then he's going to have to earn it.

(And shit, he'll definitely have nightmares about that meeting in the future. About Kal-El's hand around his throat as he promised Jason pain and retribution should he turn out to be telling anything other than the truth. The Kryptonian sure did know how to make a guy feel _special_.)

"I told you," He says to Damian as they linger on the roof of his apartment, casually blowing smoke in his face, "I don't need someone to watch my back."

Jason isn't the least bit surprised when Damian seizes the cigarette from his hand and throws it over the edge of the roof, visibly restraining a cough. "That's not your decision, Todd. We don't trust you. Superman doesn't trust you."

Jason just lights up another from the pack in his pocket. Normally he doesn't chainsmoke, but he's making a point, however pointless that may be. That the Regime can look over his shoulder all they like, he's still not going to be a passive puppet.

"Like I care."

"You should if you want to be part of the Regime."

"I agreed to toe the line, yeah, because I've already got a job to do, and I want to do it without your paranoia party being afraid I'll run off to B at any moment." Jason responds flatly, pulling in smoke like it's the far healthier alternative. "But that doesn't mean I want to go goose stepping with the rest of you."

In front of him Gotham waits. She's so much quieter these days with all her colourful villains gone, yet the filth still persists. Maybe she misses them, cranky old bitch that she is, her Bat's and clowns and gimmicks, but like everyone else these days the city has to make do with what she can get. The garden-variety thugs are still kicking, alongside the pimps and the drug dealers. Those are the people Jason focuses on now.

So if Damian wants to follow him around while he does that he's welcome to. Maybe it'll do him some good to remember how things are supposed to work, just so long as he doesn't interfere with Jason's methods.

"Crime is down, Todd. And it's all thanks to the Regime." Damian argues, following him as he jumps down to the street. "All the super-villains are locked away and people are safer than ever."

Jason rolls his eyes, not that Damian can see behind his mask. "People are more scared than ever, you mean."

For the first time Damian hesitates.

"You say that like they see us as a threat."

"Well you got to admit, brat," Jason still won't call him Nightwing. Not now, maybe not ever. "Your guys PR has been pretty shit up to this point. I mean look at all the damage you've done, and the way you come down on anyone who tries to raise a word of protest against you."

"They're fools. They don't understand what we're doing for them."

Superman's words coming out of the mouths of babes.

"Sure they don't." Jason turns towards the East End and the familiar streets of his birth. Crime Alley is calling. "Security goes up, freedom goes down, and everyone better just learn to live with it unless they want rats on their face."

"Rats on their... 1984?"

"Well, now I know you've read George Orwell you really have no excuse."

Jason jams his helmet on his head after he throws the stub of his cigarette away. The mechanism locks securely into place with a gentle click and the world around him dulls for a moment until the audio receptors come online.

"I had no idea you were an intellectual, Hood."

"Brat, that's the least of what you don't know about me."

Damian frowns. "Where are we going?"

This time Jason smirks.

"Home."

 

*

 

The streets of the East End never change. Even in a world that is supposedly cured of crime and evil they're still a bed of poverty and sin, glossed over by the newspapers as if they don't even exist. Day and night crime happens down here, and for Jason fighting it is a full-time occupation.

As he descends onto the pavement, reluctantly followed by Damian, the working girls are already advertising their wares. Some of them glare at the vigilante's for the inevitable scare they'll give the tricks who are cruising down the street, but most smile when they see the Red Hood, who has been their ardent protector for years.

Jason would smile back if it weren't for the helmet covering his face.

"Red!" A young voice calls, preceding an abundance of peroxide blonde curls and leopard print in the form of a teenage girl who throws herself at Jason. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Damian flinching back with a thinly veiled expression of disgust as she presses a thick lipstick kiss to the cheek of Jason's helmet. "How are you?"

"Hey Cecilia," He says pleasantly, patting her on the back as he endures the affectionate assault. "You look better today."

Cecilia Dawson is sixteen years-old, sweet as honey, and alone but for a couple of other women who'd taken her in under their wing as Jason's request after he found her pimp about to slit her throat two months ago. The guy was under the mistaken impression that Cecilia was stealing from him, and after ascertaining the truth Jason had gently suggested she take a walk while he had a 'word' with her pimp.

Being a smart girl Cecilia had done as she was told, and evidently wasn't bothered by the fact that neither she or anyone else had ever seen the slimeball again after that.

"I feel better." She tells him happily, drawing back and clutching her hands together in front of her chest. "That flu medicine you gave us really turned a trick, if you get my meaning."

"I'm glad, but you should wrap up warmer if you don't want to get sick again."

Cecilia shakes her head, curls bouncing prettily under the yellow light of the streetlamp. "You know it doesn't work that way, Red, guys want to see the merchandise."

"Yeah, I know." Jason sighs inwardly, suppressing a shudder at just how well he knows that fact. 

Back when he'd been on the streets he hadn't had to advertise himself so well as the older boys and girls did - because the clientele who'd sought him out wanted a very particular thing - but he'd still experienced enough to have a hauntingly intimate knowledge of how things worked for the regular crowd.

Cecilia peers behind him. "Who's your friend?"

"He's not my friend. And he's no one." Jason says, at about the same time as Damian says "Nightwing."

They glare at each other through their masks, and even though she can't see their eyes Cecilia picks up on it. Her teeth sink deep into shiny pink lip gloss.

"I'm Nightwing." Damian repeats again firmly, as if to drive the point home while still looking at Jason.

"I thought Nightwing wore blue, and didn't he -"

"He's new." Jason interjects smoothly before Cecilia can say anything completely disastrous. He puts his arm around her shoulder and turns her gently away from Damian, bending his head down to her ear as he speaks in a conspiratorial tone. "I'm showing him the ropes. You know, like an apprentice? So don't worry about him, he's just a little nervous about performing tonight."

If he wasn't wearing a helmet or mask Jason would have punctuated that last part with a wink, but Cecilia titters at the joke anyway. Behind them Damian growls softly, Jason ignores him.

"You know of anything I should go take a look at tonight, Cecilia?"

"Not me, but you might want to ask around. I only started working again two nights ago."

"Glad to hear it. You need anything? You okay for cash?"

"I'm fine, Red." She shakes her head again, curls shining. "Worry about yourself, sometime."

"Always do, pretty girl. Always do." Jason squeezes her shoulders before letting go. "I'll see you later, stay away from the mean one's."

Bidding goodbye to Cecilia, Jason starts walking back down the street. There's a part of him that's waiting, and he isn't surprised when Damian finally starts talking to him again, a frown marring his handsome Wayne features. "That girl..."

"What about her?"

It's kind of cute actually, the way Damian is blushing as he talks. "You seem to care about her, so why do you allow her to do that?"

Jason snorts. It's such a typical question from someone who has no idea what they're talking about. "First of all, I don't allow her to do anything. Cecilia's her own person, and she can make her own choices. But if you mean why do I knowingly stand by while a kid like her goes out tricking... well, brat, you don't know shit about the social services in Gotham. If I reported her to them they wouldn't do shit, and even if they did she'd run away and be back out on the streets within the month. Cecilia's tried foster home's before, I know, she told me. They can be worse than the streets."

"But surely someone would help her..."

"Yeah, I do. I help by making sure they're safe doing what they do. All of them. I crack the heads of the pimps who take advantage of their girls and scare off the john's who get violent."

"I... had no idea."

"No, you don't. And that's kind of the point I've been trying to make, brat." Jason stops at the bottom of a fire escape, turning to look at Damian. "You and the rest of the Regime sit up on top of your Watchtower above the Earth, but hell if any of you actually notice any of what goes down on the street level anymore. If it's not shooting lasers or threatening to take Superman's precious control from him what do you care, right?"

Just like that Damian's glaring at him again, feathers thoroughly ruffled.

"Careful, Hood. You're on thin ice."

"Oh right, sorry, I forgot he's your new dad now." Jason jumps and catches the bottom rung of the ladder before starting to haul himself up. Damian swiftly follows. "So exactly how has that been working out for you? Did he finally get you that pony you've always wanted for Christmas?"

They make it up to the roof and Jason only has a split second's warning before Damian has him by the front of his jacket, hauling him forwards until they're face to face.

"You of all people have no right to lecture me about issues with my father, Todd."

"Hm. Guess I don't, but I still might anyway." Damian jerks him again, and Jason swears he feels his teeth rattle in his mouth. He still hasn't tried out one of those super-pills himself yet, but maybe he should. Especially considering how Damian always seems to be hopped up on them when he visits Jason. "You're not answering my question."

Damian lets go of him as if burnt, pushing Jason back away from him.

"It's none of your business."

"I'm sure it's not."

Dick was right, Jason thinks, Damian might just need someone to watch over him after all. The only question is if Jason's the one who's prepared to take that spot. Right now he's not feeling generous, no matter what hopes the ghostly Golden Boy may have for him.

He snaps his fingers instead, dismissive at the same time as beckoning for Damian to follow him. "Come on, kid. Let's go scare the shit out of some drug dealers. That'll make you feel better."

It'll make both of them feel better.

 

*

 

He doesn't know what to make of Damian's duties as parole officer bleeding over into his personal life.

Doesn't know what to think when the kid's there in one of his safehouses, poking through Jason's bookshelves with a critical eye while he works on fixing one of his helmet's. Patrol he can handle, that's okay, but having the kid invading his private space is a whole other kettle of fish.

It makes Jason uncomfortable after being alone for so long to have someone around him all the time, touching his things, and talking to him when he least expects it - even if it's just with grunts or snapped out insults. Was this part of his orders, or was Damian lonely too? Even though he was supposed to be surrounded by family up in the floating space station where Superman and Wonder Woman were playing house. 

Try as he might, Jason can't imagine that being a happy marriage by any means. Not after what happened to Kal-El's last partner.

"You can borrow one, if you want." He says finally, tired of watching Damian read the blurbs of the novels only to set them back on the shelf. "Just bring it back afterwards."

"That's not why I'm looking."

Jason rolls his eyes, fiddling with a screwdriver because he needs something to do with his hands to stop himself from snapping. "Bullshit. Just pick a damn book, brat. Maybe you'll learn something."

"I said, that's not why I'm looking." Damian glares at him, though he doesn't put the book he's holding in his hands now back immediately.

"Then why are you?"

"To get a better sense of who you are."

That catches Jason's attention. "Seems like a roundabout way to do it when I'm sitting right here." 

"How do I know you'd tell me the truth if I asked?"

"You don't, you'd just have to trust me." He puts the helmet and tools down, intrigued despite himself. "But go on then, I'm curious, what does my taste in literature tell you about me?"

"Well, for a start, you apparently don't know that they wrote books past 1965." Damian says flatly, and it takes Jason a moment to realise that was meant to be a joke. He rewards Damian with a quirk of his lips, which seems to bolster the boy's confidence some. "And you're also an incurable romantic at heart."

Jason openly laughs this time, startling himself. He isn't this desperate for company, surely. "It's my deepest, darkest secret. But c'mon, that's pretty obvious stuff."

Damian almost smiles in return, turning his gaze back to the shelf. Jason watches him study the titles intently, and swears the kid hesitates before speaking again, "You're a romantic, but you don't believe in happy endings."

The breath catches in Jason's chest as his own smile falls away.

"Well, y'know," He says, trying to rally himself from the unexpected blow, talking a little more honestly than he means to. "I didn't get one, so why should anyone else."

"You came back."

"Yeah, and look how well that's worked out for me." Jason shakes his head, feeling the bitterness well up out of his chest. "I'll let you in on a secret, kid. Life's just a series of unfortunate events. That's why you gotta grab the good stuff by the balls when it comes floating by, make the best of it before it slips through your fingers."

Damian stares at him.

"What, too dark for you?"

"No... it's refreshing actually." Damian shrugs and takes the book he's holding over to the other chair in the room, sitting down on it with his legs crossed. "You're more honest than most fools I've met, Todd."

Jason snorts, "That's a backhanded compliment. But sure, I get it, all that heroic optimism gets old fast. Takes a real asshole not to admit they're slogging through the same shit as everyone else."

Damian nods, but his eyes are still fixed on Jason. "There something else you want to say?"

"No. No. That's..." Damian leans back into the seat and opens up the book to the first page, turning his eyes downwards. "I'll borrow this one, if you insist."

"I don't, but borrow it anyway."

Jason picks up his helmet and tools again to get back to work, and if someone were to put a gun to his head and force him to put a label on the silence that follows it might read thus: companionable.

 

*

 

"Did you ever think it would come down to us?" He asks Damian, seized by a sudden melancholy mood a few nights later as they sit on top of a water tower.

"What?" The kid asks, not immediately getting it. He has his nose buried in _Gormenghast_ while they take a break, waiting for some call from the big boss to come in.

It's kind of appropriate, Jason thinks. Titus, the main character (doubtless what had caught Damian's eye in the first place) was a noble's son built with expectations, heir to a legacy centuries old who tired of his restricting destiny, and his counterpoint Steerpike, who started as nothing more than a kitchen boy, was the cuckoo in the nest; the one who destroyed that Earldom from within.

Despite himself, he's interested to find out what Damian will think once he finishes it.

Trying not to be impatient Jason rolls his shoulders, biting his lip as he tests the words before saying them out loud. "Did you ever think we'd be the last Robin's left?"

Damian tenses up. The book lowers, and even with the mask Jason can read the pain that slides over his face.

"No."

"Me neither." Jason licks the filter of his cigarette, tasting menthol. "I always figured I'd be dead again first. That if anyone was going to last it would be Dick and the Replacement, but they're both gone. Now it's just me and you."

A questions burns in the back of his throat, then forces its way past his lips.

"Do you even know what happened to Tim?"

Damian's voice becomes somehow quieter, and if Jason isn't mistaken it's shame that passes over his face. "No."

"Fuck. Me neither." He whispers hoarsely in turn.

Seems like Super-daddy doesn't tell Damian everything after all, if the kid even bothered to ask, and he had to have had a hand in it. Had to. Because who else could just wipe the Titan's from the face of the planet like that? No one, that's who. Not with Superboy and fire power like Starfire's on the team. 

It's one piece of information that he would give over to Bruce quite happily without any bitterness in his heart if he were to discover it.

"We're doing the right thing." Damian says doggedly, pushing his fingers into his overgrown hair. Book forgotten on the steel roof.

Jason can't quite help laughing, bitter and a little hysterical the way he did the first night Damian broke into his home. "Oh kid, how many times are you going to repeat that to yourself before you believe it's true?"

Damian doesn't answer, but then Jason watches him jump and press his fingers to his ear as something comes in over the radio that Jason's not privileged enough to listen in to yet.

"Come on," he says eventually, tucking the book away before standing. "There's some dissenters demonstrating downtown. I'm under orders to make them disperse, and you're going help me."

"Is that your order or Superman's?"

"It doesn't matter whose order it is, Todd. It's time you started proving your commitment to our cause."

Right. Tests.

Damian arches an eyebrow as Jason slides the steel .40 rounds out of his guns and replaces them with rubber bullets. "I didn't even know you carried those."

"I only kill people who deserve it, brat." Jason shakes his head, hating himself for what he's about to do. It goes against just about everything he believes in, but when you agree to play a role you need to either commit fully or get the hell out of dodge. "Lead the way."

"You're agreeing to this far more easily than I thought you would."

"Bossman explained it pretty clear. I do as I'm told or I get thrown in your super secret jailhouse, isn't that right?"

Damian nods reluctantly. "That's right."

Jason taps the barrel of one gun against his thigh before holstering it, out of suppressed nerves that he hopes will come across as impatience. "Then let's go."

 

*

 

There's screams, angry shouts and accusations. The protesters flee to the sound of black boots marching as tear gas fills the air and Jason -

\- Jason can't stop his hands from trembling.

He almost phones it in that night, a glass of bourbon in his hand as he stares at his helmet sat on the table. Almost calls B and tells him fuck it, he's out, before making a run for it (except there's nowhere on Earth he can run where they can't follow him).

But he doesn't. Instead he sits and drinks until things turn fuzzy and he can't see the green in his eyes anymore, glad that Damian had the sense not to follow him home tonight. It hasn't been this bad in years, but then against he hasn't loathed _himself_ this much in years either.

"You know..." Jason whispers into the echoing silence of his apartment, "If you're serious about being my guardian angel, I could really use a pep talk right about now."

He licks his lips, glances down at his empty glass a moment later.

"Yeah. Didn't think so."

 

*

 

Damian reappears in his life two days later.

The kid looks pale and worn, wary as he slips in through Jason's window. "The fuck have you been?" Jason demands, for some strange reason instead of asking why he's here now.

"Busy." Damian says shortly, he walks in and sets _Gormenghast_ down on Jason's table. "Your book."

"I can see that." Jason tightens his hand around his mug of tea. "What did you think of it?"

After a moment of hesitation Damian sits down in the seat opposite him, reaching up to pull his mask off and set it down between them. Without it, he looks a hell of a lot younger than even his eighteen years.

"It was well written. I enjoyed the ending of the second book particularly."

"Why?"

"Because Titus defeats the traitor Steerpike."

"He does," Jason agrees after a moment's thought. "but he loses a hell of a lot in the process. Was that the only thing you liked about it?"

Unbidden, the memory suddenly comes to him of similar discussions with Alfred. When Jason was a boy, still Robin, they'd sit together in the kitchen and discuss the books Jason was reading. Alfred had never judged him for his opinions, he'd only ever encouraged Jason to speak them out loud and to think about why they were what they were.

"I admired his conviction." Damian says suddenly, "Titus'. He see's that the right thing is done, but... but he holds to himself too. Duty would have seen him keep himself locked into misery in Gormenghast, but he wanted more. He chose to leave all he'd ever known and seek out something new."

"And here I thought you'd scorn him for that, since you're so huge on duty and all."

"That's not... it's only a story." Damian says defensively, pulling back into his spiky shell at the first insinuation he's betraying anything. Even though he's done it at least twice in his life that Jason knows about; first to the Al-Ghul's, then to Bruce. "And Gormenghast was hardly a worthy legacy to uphold."

"They're never just stories, brat. Never." But Jason nods, pleased that maybe the words of Mervyn Peake have reached through to him. "You got that right though, pile of shit the lot of it. Titus made the right choice in the end by deciding to be free. I bet you liked the gruesome parts."

"I did. Though the third book was... odd."

Jason grins suddenly, "Because of the helicopters?"

"It makes no sense!" Damian bursts out, lifting his hands in animated protest. "The previous two books had nothing of the sort! Then suddenly there is modern technology outside? Skyscrapers! How could nothing of that have come to the castle before? I refuse to believe a thoroughly medieval fiefdom could exist in isolation from such a world!"

Laughing hard, Jason shakes his head. It takes him a minute before he can talk again. "Hell if I know, kid. I'm just a reader, not a writer. But the third book's definitely my least favourite. I always stop at the second whenever I feel like reading them again."

Damian grumbles. "I wish you had told me that."

"Like you would have listened." He lifts up his tea once he's calmed down, draining the rest of it. "So, is bringing me my book back the only reason you're here?"

With a sigh, Damian shakes his head. "No. I came to check on you. You seemed... distraught last I saw you."

"Yeah well, shit happens." Jason stands up, suddenly uncomfortable with the implication as he takes his cup to the sink. He doesn't offer to make Damian a drink. "Is this your idea or Super-Daddy's?"

"Mine."

That's a little surprising. Jason turns round, leaning back against the counter. "I thought he ordered you to be my babysitter."

"He did, but your willing participation in sending those protesters home has earned you some good will." Damian intones. "That, and the fact you're still here despite your obvious... lack of enthusiasm for the job."

"It's not like I have anywhere to run even if I wanted to."

Damian shoots him a look, like he's trying to peer through Jason to see if he's telling the truth. Jason holds still for it and lets him look, because that, unlike a lot of the things he says, really is the truth. "Is that so?"

"It is. I have even less friends than you do."

Just like the air turns tense between them again, and Damian growls as he pushes his chair back from the table. "Why do you hate me so much, Todd?"

Oh now isn't that just a loaded question and a half? Jason shakes his head. "I already told you."

The hurt flashes over Damian's face before he can stop it. Old hurt, old guilt. "It was an accident."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then why -"

His mouth feels suddenly dry. "Maybe one day, kid. Not now."

Not ever. They're his, those memories. His and his alone. Something to hold tight to his chest and brood over in the darkest parts of the night when he needs to torture himself a little more. It's just like he told Damian before, life was a series of unfortunate events, and when something good did happen to you the only thing to do was hold onto it. 

Even when it started to hurt more than it helped.

"Tt." Damian picks up his mask again and fixes it back onto his face. He doesn't know what to say in response to that without making himself look desperate, so he starts bossing Jason around again instead. "Start patrolling Gotham again, Todd. It doesn't suit you to sit on your ass and mope."

Aw, demon brat said a bad word. Jason's not even surprised to find that Damian and likely the whole Regime know he hasn't left his apartment once in the two days since the rally. There were surely camera's fixed on his comings and goings. "Sure. You want to borrow another book?"

Damian pauses at the window, looking back at Jason with a puzzled expression on his face. "What?"

"Do you want to borrow another book?"

"I..." Damian hesitates, teeth biting into his bottom lip like he's torn. Then slowly he turns and crosses to Jason's bookshelf. It takes him a couple of minutes to choose before he pulls a tome out and tucks it under his arm. "I really don't understand you, Todd. You say you hate me, but yet you allow me to borrow your possessions."

"What can I say? I'm a man of mystery." Jason watches him traipse back to the window. It's easier than saying he doesn't understand himself half the time either. "Don't forget to bring it back when you're done."

The kid rolls his eyes, or at least Jason thinks he does under the mask. "Of course, I'm not an imbecile." He hesitates one last time at the window, speaking far more quietly. "There'll be other missions soon, now that you begun proving yourself. They will want to see how far you're willing to go."

"I'm sure they will." Jason ignores the feeling of impending dread those words conjure, wondering what could possibly be worse than harming innocent civilians. "Now, get the hell out of my house, brat."

Damian goes, and Jason returns to the table and picks up the book lying there. He flicks through the pages, then seized by a fit of nostalgia leafs back to the start.

Why the hell not, he can kill a little more time before he goes back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S My recollection of Gormenghast may not be totally accurate, as it's been a few years since I last read the books and I had to wiki to remind myself of some of the plot points, particularly in reference to the third book, which I never finished.It's usage as the book Damian ends up reading was inspired by, as Jason notes, the main character's name being Titus XD tThat said, I do recommend it to anyone who's into sprawling Gothic fiction, as the first parts are an entertaining if heavy read (and the BBC did a pretty good four-episode adaptation of the first two books some years back).


End file.
